


A More Modern Romance

by Sandrene09



Category: Smosh
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrene09/pseuds/Sandrene09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony never asked for Ian to practically be the perfect boyfriend Anthony doesn't deserve. He goes and does it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A More Modern Romance

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted an excuse to write a series of domestic scenes. Oh, and I've been having a particularly vicious writer's block for the past month, so apologies if this fluff fic doesn't seem particularly well-written.

It's a true testament to how fucked up Anthony feels after his latest break-up that he wasn't even drunk the night before _slash_ isn't even hungover _today_ as he opens his eyes to realize that he's naked in Ian's bed.

The fact that he just had sex with his best friend isn't hitting him yet now. He supposes it will hit him much harder later, when he's doing the walk of shame from Ian's house, or perhaps when he finally has to get out of Ian's heavenly bed—seriously, where the hell did Ian buy this mattress?—to put on some pants. He doesn't really know for sure when _exactly_ the shame will hit him and make him want to disappear under the ground, but he does know that it won't hit him now, while he's warm under the snowy white sheets with Ian's arm draped over his stomach and with Ian's steady breaths making the hair on the back of Anthony's neck gently move.

To be honest, it actually feels nice and not at all weird. Anthony wonders what _that_ says about him. He doesn't quite know, and honestly, he doesn't think he _wants_ to know _now_ , of all times. What he _does_ know is that at the moment, the sky outside is still dark, and that it's still too early for Anthony to get out of bed, especially since it's a Saturday and he doesn't have work.

It wouldn't hurt to get a few more hours of sleep.

When he next wakes up, the sun has made it its personal mission to blind him, and he groggily raises a hand to block the sunshine as he squints. Ian's arm is no longer draped over his stomach, and when he turns, he realizes that Ian's gone and has been for quite a while.

Groaning, Anthony throws the covers back and plants his feet on the ground, one hand coming up to arrange his hair into some semblance of order. He raises an eyebrow when he sees his clothes on the floor as well as a few pillows. The shame hasn't hit him yet, and he doesn't know whether to be thankful or not about it.

He sighs. Standing up, he indulges himself and stretches, bending this way and that, humming happily when he feels his bones pop into place. He spies his boxers hanging on the doorknob, and he pads over to the door, the corners of his lips twitching as he struggles not to smile.

It's not long before he's descending the stairs in nothing but his boxers, his nose following the scent of pancakes.

“Hey,” Ian says, overly chipper for someone who isn't really a morning person. He looks back at the pan. “I'll be finished in a few.”

Anthony nods, walking to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. Ian's just in boxers as well, a pair of navy blue and gray striped boxers that Anthony vividly remembers removing from Ian's person last night.

The thing is—it's not weird. What is weird is not the whole hanging-around-the-kitchen-in-just-their-boxers part—no matter what they've told the fans, people don't just go and live together for four years without seeing more skin than what they're prepared for, and Ian and Anthony have _definitely_ seen each other in less clothing before—but is rather the fact that nothing is weird, despite the domesticity of the scene. Anthony is seated at Ian's wooden dining table, drinking from a bottle of water as Daisy stares at him from the floor with her big, pleading eyes, and Ian's in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for both of them. It should be weird.

It isn't.

“Tell me those are vegan pancakes,” Anthony says when he finally gives in to Daisy and leans down to start rubbing her tummy.

Ian walks to the dining table, a plate stacked high with blueberry pancakes in one hand and a plate with cut up fruits in the other. “These are vegan pancakes.”

“Really?”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Your lack of trust hurts me, man,” he says, smiling, as he puts the plates down on the table. “Go be useful and grab some plates.”

“Sure,” Anthony says as he stands up, smiling when he hears Daisy's plaintive whine. The fact that he knows where to find the butter, bottle of syrup, forks, and plates in Ian's kitchen should be alarming, but it isn't. Rather, it makes him smile, and when he returns to the dining table, he says, “Nice organizational skills. Melanie?”

Ian doesn't even look up from his phone as he hums in agreement. Anthony stifles a laugh as he sets the plates down carefully. Ian, for all of the maturity he claims to have, would never have been able to have a kitchen as orderly and as neat as his kitchen now in a million years if it weren't for Melanie's influence.

“So,” Ian begins when Anthony's finally seated across him, “bad break up?”

Anthony raises an eyebrow in disbelief as he watches Ian grab a plate and take three pancakes. Between the two of them, being emotionally constipated has long stopped being a skill they both had and has instead become an art of sorts, more so for Ian than for him. The fact that Ian's the one who's bringing the subject up is not only surprising to Anthony, it actually makes him wonder if he's still somehow asleep and dreaming.

“Hm?” Anthony asks, stabbing a few slices of watermelon and putting them on his plate. “What did you say?”

Ian gives him a puzzled frown. “I said, bad break up?”

“Oh,” Anthony says. He shrugs, deciding not to get caught up in the whole 'Ian-brought-the-subject-involving- _feelings_ -up-first' thing. “Yeah. I mean, no offense man, but if it weren't that bad, I probably wouldn't have had sex with you last night.”

Ian laughs. Between bites of blueberry pancakes, he says, “oh, fuck you,” and Anthony doesn't quite know what makes him do it, but he quickly cheekily responds with, “you already did last night.”

It's not the sort of morning Anthony thought he would have last night, when he was still internally panicking about what kissing his best friend in his best friend's room means, but he thinks he would really rather have this.

-.-.-.-

Things don't change between him and Ian.

Anthony's actually pretty glad. He doesn't really want tension between him and Ian, and to be honest, he thinks he doesn't want a relationship so soon after Miel. Despite the admittedly mind-blowing sex he and Ian had that night in Ian's bedroom, he and Ian remain the same, and he couldn't be gladder. Hell, he didn't even do the extremely embarrassing walk of shame. Instead, Ian drove Anthony to his apartment complex, waited for him to change clothes, and jogged with him downtown. It's like the universe decided to give him one free pass. Knowing just how the universe treats him, Anthony thinks that it's probably just the universe pitying him after his break up with Miel.

God, he can't believe he's being pitied by the universe.

A week later, and he and Ian still haven't _really_ talked about _that_ night. It's definitely mentioned in passing, and it sort of becomes an inside joke between the two of them, but he and Ian haven't talked about feelings, and they _definitely_ haven't talked about how Ian just happened to have a bottle of lube. If it were the sort of thing he and Ian could joke about with the rest of the world, he's pretty sure he and Ian would have found a way to make a video about it somehow, but as it is, with his relationship just having recently crashed and burned, Anthony really doesn't want to make the fanbase more excited than they already are.

It's raining, and Anthony sighs before taking a sip of his tea. He had planned to jog after breakfast, and really, rain hasn't stopped him from jogging around the city before, but this isn't the kind of rain he'll be able to withstand. What this is is rain pouring hard enough to make him slip not even half a block away from his apartment building.

Turning away from the glass window offering him an exquisite view of the city, Anthony walks barefooted to his kitchen, thinking about how soup would sound nice right about now, never mind the fact that soup isn't really breakfast-material. Before he could start rummaging in his pantry for ingredients, however, quick and forceful thumps on his door steal his attention. Confused, he walks to the door and looks into the peephole, his eyebrows raising when he sees Ian sopping wet.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he immediately asks once he opens the door, stepping aside to let Ian in. He looks at what Ian's wearing, and he nods slowly, understanding dawning on him. “Oh. So I'm guessing the rain began in the middle of your jog?”

Ian sighs as he looks at himself ruefully. Anthony pointedly ignores the fact that Ian's dripping on his wooden floor. “Yeah,” he says, frustration bleeding into the tone of his voice. “Can I stay here for a bit? I don't have anything but my phone and my keys. Or I could maybe borrow your car and drive to my place? Wait, no, just lend me some money and I'll go grab an Uber or something.”

“Go take a shower,” Anthony says instead of answering Ian's questions. “I'll go drive you to your place after breakfast.”

Ian shoots him a relieved smile. Anthony thinks he should probably be at least a little bit offended by that. What did Ian think Anthony would do? Kick him out of his apartment? “Thanks, man.”

Ian turns around to head to Anthony's bathroom, water dripping with every step he takes. “Hey Pip,” Anthony hears Ian say as he rounds the corner, and he doesn't pay much attention to that. When Pip meows as if he's actually greeting Ian back, however, Anthony actually stops walking in surprise.

“Did Pip really just greet you back?” Anthony calls out.

“Why are you surprised?”

Anthony shrugs even though he knows Ian can't see him. “I'm not,” he lies. “Go get in the shower.”

Ian doesn't reply. Anthony takes that to mean that Ian actually took his advice and has gotten into the shower.

After finding the mop and cleaning up Ian's mess, Anthony takes the time to look in his closet for something that Ian can wear. It's not exactly hard to find clothes that will fit him since he and Anthony basically wear the same size, but it still takes Anthony too long to find a pair of old sweatpants that wouldn't look ridiculously long on Ian. He grabs a new white towel from his closet and lays that on his bed along with the clothes, ignoring the way Pip looks entirely too interested in what he's doing all the while.

It probably should be worrying that Pip looks like he knows more than he lets on, but Anthony doesn't let it bother him too much. It's not that uncommon for cats to have a sort of knowing look on their faces, after all.

Anthony heads back to the kitchen and finally manages to grab the ingredients for soup. Halfway through peeling potatoes, he hears his bathroom door open.

“Whatcha making?”

Anthony looks up from the cutting board and almost outright laughs when he sees just how long the shirt and sweatpants are. If he were to be honest, Ian actually looks kind of adorable. The way the sweatpants bunch up at the ankles and the way the shirt's not only long for him but also a little big around the arms make him look like the visual representation of how cuddling an old and loved teddy bear feels like.

Ian raises his hands. “Save the jokes for later,” he says as he walks barefooted towards Anthony. “Seriously though, what are you making?”

“I wasn't saying anything!” Anthony protests, a smile on his face.

“Don't pretend you weren't going to.” Ian looks over Anthony's shoulder. “Potatoes?”

“Yep,” Anthony says, popping the 'p'. “I'm making soup and garlic bread.”

Ian raises an eyebrow. “For breakfast? Fancy.”

Anthony laughs. “Shut up and help me.”

It's raining outside and Anthony won't be able to go on his run, but he thinks it's not so bad, not when he has his best friend cooking with him in his kitchen.

-.-.-.-

“I'm so tired.”

Anthony watches in amusement as Ian collapses face-first on Anthony's bed. As much as the two of them look like grown-ups who have built a business empire from scratch, at the end of the day, they're still two goofy teenagers at heart who are just trying to go with the flow.

“Move over,” Anthony says as he moves Ian's legs to the side and sits down, smiling when he sees Pip approaching him.

Ian rolls over, his eyes still shut. “God, whose idea was it for us to drive to Sacramento instead of booking a flight?”

“Yours.” Anthony turns a bit to look at Ian. “You're going to have to get up now and get an Uber if you want to get back to your place before four.”

“Too lazy,” Ian mumbles, and Anthony knows he's already on his way to falling asleep. Sighing, Anthony stands up and goes to his bathroom, stripping to his boxers and brushing his teeth before returning to the bedroom. Normally, he sleeps naked, and he knows Ian sleeps naked as well, but there's no way that's going to happen with the both of them sleeping in the same bed.

“Come on, you can at least remove your clothes,” Anthony says as he gently taps on Ian's arms. “Ian?”

“I feel like if I get up from this bed, you're going to make me sleep on your uncomfortable as hell couch,” Ian grumbles.

“You said you liked my couch.”

Slowly, Ian opens his eyes. “Well, yeah. It's comfortable for sitting, but not really for sleeping. And really? Are we going to talk about this now? Some of us would actually like to sleep.”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “That 'some of us' actually involves _me_ , thank you very much, and I won't be able to sleep in my own bed if you stay sprawled like a starfish on it.”

Ian groans, but he sits up anyway. “Touchy,” he says as he yawns, and Anthony absolutely resists the sudden urge to ruffle Ian's hair. “I'm getting up, don't worry.”

Anthony watches as Ian shuffles to the bathroom. He yawns, then goes to check that his door's locked.

“Hey, Anthony?” Ian calls out.

“Yeah?” Anthony asks as he approaches his bathroom.

“Extra toothbrush?”

“Cabinet under the sink,” he says, then pauses. “It's probably behind the box of Q-Tips.”

“Thanks,” Ian calls out, and Anthony walks over to the bed. Not long after he settles under the covers, Ian opens the bathroom door and walks out, looking much more alert than before. “I have never been more thankful that we don't have to go to work tomorrow,” he says as he climbs into bed.

“We wouldn't have to do this if you'd just let me book the tickets,” Anthony reminds him.

Ian yawns. “Where's the fun in that?”

Anthony looks at Ian fondly, unable to keep himself from smiling when he sees Ian already fast asleep, the creases on his forehead fading away as he falls deeper and deeper into sleep. Ian looks so much younger now, looks so much more like a guy in his early-twenties who doesn't care about what the world's throwing at him than a guy who's nearly thirty and is one half of a multimillion dollar company.

Anthony closes his eyes.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

-.-.-.-

Anthony wakes up to the sound of clanging in the kitchen.

Groaning, Anthony slowly sits up, one hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he yawns. Stretching his arms upward, he says, “you know, you could have at least had the decency of being quiet and not waking me up.”

Ian doesn't reply.

Sighing, Anthony gets out of bed with all the slowness of someone who slept at almost four in the morning. Outside, the city is alive and bustling, the sun shining brightly overhead. He looks at the city streets below and finds the usual Los Angeles traffic, taxis and Ubers and various cars looking like ants to him when he's this high up.

“What time is it?” Anthony asks as he turns around and heads toward Ian. Ian, by the looks of it, is going through his pantry with a confused look on his face, his head tilted to the side as he thinks deeply about something. When Ian doesn't give any indication that he heard Anthony, Anthony bumps  Ian's elbow with his, startling Ian out of his reverie.

“What time is it?” Anthony asks again.

“Around 11-ish,” Ian says, looking away from the pantry for a moment to shoot Anthony a _look_. “You couldn't have looked at your phone for that?” Ian closes the cabinet door. “Anyway, I was going to cook you breakfast, but all you have is vegan shit I really don't think I can cook.”

That explains why Ian's still in his boxers, at least. “Let's eat out?” Anthony suggests, walking to his fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Let's order in?” Ian counters.

“Yeah, okay,” Anthony agrees, closing the refrigerator door as he turns around and starts heading for the nightstand beside his bed for his phone. “Anything you want?”

Ian walks toward the bed and climbs back in, one hand reaching for the remote on the nightstand beside him. “Chinese?”

Anthony shakes his head. “Nah. Indian?”

Ian shrugs. “Sure,” he says, before turning the television on before him and going on Netflix.

When Anthony finally finishes ordering—with Ian mouthing out what he wants to order at him every time Anthony shoots him a questioning look—Anthony puts his phone back on the nightstand and settles back into bed, arranging the pillows behind him to make it easier for him to sit up against the headboard. Looking at the television before him, he's surprised to find that Ian's still looking through movies. “You still haven't picked anything?”

Ian shrugs. “What do you want to watch?”

Anthony thinks for a few moments. “Friends? I've been watching it again, and I'm on season five.” He looks over at Ian, looks at the freckles that are oh so visible in the late morning sunlight, looks at the clear blue of his eyes, looks at the smooth pale skin that isn't being covered by Anthony's rumpled white sheets, and understands just what their fans see in Ian.

It's not that Anthony's straight and he's just now realizing that his best friend's attractive, because, well, he _isn't_ straight. Thanks to an ill-advised fumble in the sheets with the very same person who's sitting beside him on his bed and looking through movies available on Netflix back when they were 18,  Anthony knows that he's bisexual. So no, it's not because of that that he hasn't noticed just how attractive Ian is, but rather because all this time, he has considered Ian as both a best friend and a brother, not someone Anthony can date and end up together with.

“Hey man, are you okay?”

Anthony shakes his head. “Sorry, what?”

Ian's eyebrows are furrowed. “I was asking you what episode you want to watch.”

By some sort of miracle, Anthony manages to tear his eyes away from the constellation of freckles on Ian's nose. “Oh, okay,” he says, still a little bit distracted by the thoughts running through his mind.

He knows Ian knows something's wrong. When Ian chooses not to comment on it, instead handing Anthony the remote control in silence, Anthony offers him a slightly shaky smile.

So what if Ian's attractive? That's just another fact. It shouldn't change anything.

_And it isn't changing anything_ , Anthony mentally tells himself as he chooses an episode. He hands the remote back to Ian and settles back into the pillows, his lips curling into a smile when he sees Pip jumping onto the bed and settling into the small space between him and Ian.

One episode later, Anthony hears the beep that tells him their food is here, and he looks at Ian with a questioning look.

Ian looks at him and laughs. “Fuck no. This is your place. You're the one who's going to get up and get the food,” he says, though he pauses the show when the next episode starts.

Anthony rolls his eyes but gets out of bed nonetheless, walking to the door barefooted and pressing the button that will let the delivery guy enter the building.

“You're not going to answer the door in just your boxers, are you?” Ian calls out, and Anthony looks down at himself before walking back to the bedroom and heading straight for his closet. “Good point.”

Grabbing the first shirt he finds—an old, worn, white v-neck tee—he quickly puts it on and grabs his wallet from the nightstand, heading to the door right after.

It's not too long before he's walking back to the bed with two plastic bags full of Indian food. Pip, predictably, stands up from where he's settled on the bed and stalks toward the bags of food. Anthony ignores him in favor of walking back to the kitchen and grabbing spoons, forks, napkins, and two bottles of water, knowing that Ian will deal with Pip.

When he's back, he finds Pip slowly walking towards his own bed, somehow having a look of betrayal on his face as he glances back at Ian. Stifling a laugh, Anthony walks to the bed and finds his Tofu Jalfrezi, Ian's Chicken Saag, and their assorted appetizers neatly laid out on the bed, vividly colorful against Anthony's white sheets.

“Looks good,” he says, handing Ian the bottles of water and utensils before carefully getting into bed.

Ian smiles, choosing not to reply. Instead, he grabs the remote and resumes the show, sitting up straight before grabbing his utensils.

Anthony glances at the beautiful view offered by his glass wall before grabbing his own utensils.

It's a great day.

-.-.-.-

There is a kind of intimacy between them that Anthony is ridiculously grateful for. It's the kind of intimacy that doesn't require Anthony to be anything _but_ himself, the kind of intimacy that doesn't ask for something in return. Things with Ian are smooth and easy. Sure, they're kind of domestic, but Anthony's used to that sort of thing, especially since he actually lived with Ian for about four years. Anthony actually thinks that it's because of that that he hasn't freaked out over the whole thing feeling so domestic. He's sort of immune to everything by now.

“Hey.”

Anthony steps away from the table where Keith, Noah, and Courtney are eating, and adjusts his grip on his phone. “Hey. Where are you?”

Anthony hears the sound of what can only be the vicious Los Angeles city traffic and furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side in confusion. Ian never uses his phone while driving.

“Relax, I'm not driving,” Ian says, answering Anthony's silent question without even having to be prompted. Almost immediately, Anthony relaxes, breathing out sharply through his nose in relief. “I'm actually at Rosa's. I'm planning on getting something. You want anything?”

Anthony hums under his breath, thinking about it for a few seconds. “Garlic pasta with roasted tomatoes?”

“Done,” Ian says, and the sound of traffic becomes muffled. He must have entered the restaurant. “I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Sure,” Anthony replies. “See you.”

Hanging up, Anthony walks back to the table and sits down, smiling when he hears the conversation Keith and Noah are having. Apparently, he's missed most of what seems to be an argument over which fast-food place sells the best hash browns. Courtney is mostly silent, choosing to merely watch Keith and Noah argue while enjoying her burger.

“Girlfriend?” Courtney asks, her smile turning into something more knowing.

Anthony furrows his eyebrows. “What? No,” he says, laughing a bit. “We broke up weeks ago.”

Courtney's eyes widen in surprise. “I didn't know,” she says, carefully putting her burger down. “I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me.” Her voice is low and quiet, and across them, Keith and Noah have moved on from discussing which fast food place serves the best hash browns to discussing which ice cream brand has the best Rocky Road.

“It's good,” Anthony says, truthful. “It's been weeks. It's okay.” Of course, back then it _wasn't_ okay, as evidenced by the fact that Anthony wasn't even drunk when he had ill-advised sex with Ian that night, but right now, Anthony's pretty good. Looking back, Anthony can kind of understand why the relationship ended. It's the sort of relationship that never would have worked, though he see that until the relationship _actually_ ended.

Courtney seems to take his words at face-value, nodding slowly before picking her burger up and taking a bite. Anthony's glad. He's not quite sure he knows what to say to make her believe him if she didn't. After a few seconds, she swallows, then says, “do you want me to set you up with someone? I have this friend, and I'm pretty sure you'd like each other.”

Anthony almost chokes on air. Key word being _almost_. He shakes his head. “I'm good, thanks.”

“You sure? She's really nice. Oh, and she's vegan,” Courtney says, shrugging. “I've noticed that you're into those kinds of girls.”

Anthony chuckles. “I'm fine, really.” He glances at Keith and Noah—Noah has his burger in hand, apparently forgotten in favor of arguing with Keith about where the best nachos are in the city—before looking back at Courtney. “I'm actually thinking of not dating for a while,” he admits. “It's a little stressful, having to juggle a new relationship with work, especially now that we're busier than ever. Plus it's a little hard to find someone who's actually willing to be criticized by the fans to be with you.”

“Ah,” Courtney says, nodding in understanding. “When do you think you'll date again?”

Anthony shrugs. “I don't really know. I guess I'll know when I know, right? I mean, so many of my past relationships have failed so miserably that I guess I just wanted a break from it all.”

Courtney looks like she really wants to consolingly pat him on the back and is barely holding herself back from doing so. Anthony releases the breath he didn't even know he was holding when Courtney doesn't pat him on the back and instead says, “Well, just tell me if you're ready, okay? As I said before, I have friends you might like.”

Anthony smiles, grateful. “Yeah, I will. Might be a long time before then, but I will definitely tell you.”

After that, Courtney and Anthony smoothly insert themselves into the latest argument Keith and Noah are having. It's fun, and Anthony finds that he's enjoying himself, what with the whole thing reminding him of late-nights spent with Ian, playing video games in the dark while they had debates over the most ridiculous things. Anthony's struck by such an intense feeling of nostalgia, and for a few seconds, he finds himself unable to speak. Now that he and Ian live on their own, moments like these come by significantly less often than before, and though Anthony relishes in the sort of independence he can only get by living in a large, busy city by himself, he's a little sad, too.

He shouldn't be sad, he tells himself. It's not as if he doesn't see Ian anymore, after all. There's a difference though between seeing Ian in public and seeing Ian in private, between knowing Ian lives in a house he owns and knowing that Ian lives in the same place Anthony considers _home_.

Anthony shakes his head. This isn't the kind of thing he should be thinking about. With that thought in mind, he smoothly inserts himself into the conversation again, easily figuring out what the others are talking about. Before long, the door opens to reveal Ian with two plastic bags filled with boxes of food.

Anthony's stomach rumbles, and he smiles as he stands up and walks towards Ian, helping him by grabbing one of the bags and bringing it to the table. “Traffic?” he asks as he sits down beside Courtney.

“Yeah,” Ian says, removing the boxes of food from one plastic bag and putting them on the table before sitting down. “Sorry I took so long.”

“It's fine,” Anthony says, already removing the boxes from the plastic bags and opening them to see which one is his.

Ian gives Anthony a container. “This is yours. I also bought buttermilk biscuits. They're vegan, don't worry.”

Anthony looks at the container he just opened, smiling when he sees steam. “Freshly baked? Nice. Thanks.” Anthony hands Ian a container full of lasagna and a container filled with garlic bread. “Here's yours.”

Ian grabs the containers and doesn't waste any time digging into the food. Smiling, Anthony allows himself a few seconds to merely watch Ian—after all these years, when Ian eats, Anthony's still reminded of the Ian he would spend evenings with, the Ian who would eat pizza by the box—before turning his head to look at his food. However, when he turns his head, he catches sight of Courtney instead, and he looks at her in confusion when he notes the knowing look present on her face, when he notes the almost giddy-looking smile she has playing on her lips. She has the look of someone who knows a secret and is promising not to tell anyone.

“What?” he asks her, quiet.

“Nothing,” she says, though the knowing smile is still there. “Nothing at all.”

It doesn't reassure Anthony, not by a long shot, but he chooses to ignore her in favor of listening to the rumbling of his stomach and starting to eat.

He _is_ starving, after all, and there is a perfectly good-looking garlic pasta with roasted tomatoes in front of him.

-.-.-.-

Ian starts to sleep over at Anthony's apartment on weeknights and Anthony starts to sleep over at Ian's on weekends. To be fair, it's a logical move on their part—Anthony's apartment is much closer to the office than Ian's place, therefore guaranteeing Ian more time to laze about in bed before going to work during weekdays, and Ian's place is far away enough from the traffic and the noise pollution the city is full of, therefore giving Anthony a chance to actually relax. Don't get him wrong, Anthony _does_ love the city, _does_ love how the city seems to be constantly full of life, but he does get sick of it, sometimes, which is why he loves that he gets to spend two full days every week at Ian's quiet home.

It wasn't planned, at first. Ian just started staying at Anthony's during a week filled with back-to-back meetings, too tired to go home after late-night brainstorming sessions. In the mornings, Ian would wake up earlier than Anthony and slip out of the apartment, driving back to his house to take a shower and check up on Daisy before heading back to the office. After five consecutive days of having to do the exact same thing, Ian looked ready to puke at the thought of having to do the exact same thing over again, and had all but begged Anthony to let him stay at his apartment during weekdays. Anthony had said yes, of course, and Ian, in return, had invited him to stay at his house during weekends.

And so, here they are. After the initial week, Ian and Anthony had fallen into some sort of pattern. During Sunday evenings, Ian and Anthony would leave Ian's house with Daisy and Pip, and during Friday evenings, they would go back to Ian's place with their pets. It made sense, and as much as Anthony hates to admit it, he actually misses the company Ian and Daisy provide. Though Pip and Daisy initially didn't get along, now they _do_ , and Anthony thinks Pip is also grateful that he has someone to play with during the day, when Anthony's not at home.

Despite Ian and Daisy's presence in his apartment on weekdays, Anthony doesn't actually feel like anything's changed. If anything, everything feels _right_ , somehow—the fact that he doesn't have to come home to a quiet and empty apartment at night is something he's happy about. It feels just like back then, when he and Ian lived together in their house, though of course back there they had their own rooms and they didn't have Pip and Daisy.

It should probably feel weird. Scratch that, it _should_ feel weird, but it doesn't. Anthony can't bring himself to feel weird about him and Ian sharing a bed together when Ian used to sleep on Anthony's small bed with him all the time back when they were still teenagers, especially now that Anthony has a much bigger—and comfier—bed. Besides, it's great to have someone else do the dishes or cook sometimes, even though having Daisy in his apartment means having to mop up more pee sometimes.

On weekends, Anthony sleeps on Ian's bed. It's the most comfortable mattress he has ever known, and he would really rather share that with Ian than go sleep in the guest room, on Ian's more than a little questionable mattress. Pip actually appreciates having a backyard to frolic around in, and Anthony appreciates being able to relax without hearing the constant honking of cars. Ian, to his credit, actually starts looking up vegan dishes to cook for Anthony, and though sometimes the results are less than satisfactory—during one particular night, Ian and Anthony actually had to say “fuck it” and go to a French restaurant downtown that served vegan dishes as well—sometimes, the results are actually good enough, and really, Anthony appreciates the effort.

Two weeks after starting this little thing of theirs, Anthony finds himself at the grocery store paying for a box of cereal he doesn't even like, but got anyway because he knows it's Ian's favorite. A week later, and Anthony finds himself buying various cuts of chicken with his usual tofu. A full month later, and Anthony finds himself buying dog food for Daisy. He would freak out, really, but there just doesn't seem to be any reason to do so. He knows he's just being a good friend, helping Ian out, just as Ian is helping him out. After all, Anthony has been noticing how there's almost always cat food at Ian's place, and how various vegan alternatives have been popping up in Ian's pantry lately. There's also the fact that Ian actually keeps a bottle of Anthony's detergent at his house for when Anthony has to wash his clothes there and bottles of Anthony's preferred shampoo and conditioner.

As much as Anthony would like to think that this kind of companionship would really have happened eventually, he _knows_ that this only happened because of that night when he and Ian had sex at his house. He can't explain it fully, but he just knows. Having sex with Ian and being able to act normally the morning after was the sort of thing Ian and Anthony needed to be able to prove to themselves that they're comfortable with this kind of intimacy, he thinks.

Despite having sex together being the gateway to this new kind of intimacy, he and Ian actually continue not to talk about it. Well, until it happens again. And again. And again. It becomes a sort of common thing, actually, something that started when Ian had figured out what Anthony's favorite vegan dish was and cooked it for him. Anthony had been so startled that he had leaned in without thinking and started kissing Ian, quickly backing away when he realized what the fuck he was doing. He had started to apologize, of course, his heart falling to the bottom of his stomach when he figured out that that would probably be the last time Ian would stay at his place, when Ian suddenly leaned in and kissed Anthony back.

After that, _well_. Having sex seemed logical, considering the fact that having one another in their respective living spaces all the time hasn't really provided them with _alone time_ , and being sexually frustrated for about a month is really not fun at all, so they quickly finished dinner and moved things along to Anthony's bedroom.

_This—_ it's definitely weird, and it's not the sort of thing friends do for each other, no matter how close they may be, but Anthony doesn't care. He has a best friend who only slightly teases him for occasionally giving into his guilty pleasure and watching America's Next Top Model, and who occasionally has sex with him. Clearly, he has everything he might possibly want, and he would be stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth by questioning everything that's happening right now.

So he doesn't. Question it, that is. What he _does_ do is go to the grocery store and stock up on lube and condoms.

It's a pretty wise move on his part.

-.-.-.-

For some unknown reason, Anthony becomes Courtney’s go-to person to rant to about her love life. He doesn’t mind, really, since Courtney is pretty imaginative and her rants more often than not amuse him. Courtney, to her credit, is never spiteful, and her brand of humor when talking about her lack of a love life is more self-deprecating than insulting to the people she goes on dates with. During times when she nitpicks on her dates, she doesn’t bring up truly distressing things about them—things that may be too personal or too hurtful—only bringing up the most inconsequential of things.

This is why Anthony isn’t surprised when his phone rings one night and Courtney’s name appears on the caller ID.

“What’s up?” Anthony asks, one hand holding the phone and the other opening his pantry cabinet. Frowning at the lack of food, he takes a moment to mentally thank Ian for his foresight and for actually volunteering to be the one to go to Walmart.

“I had a bad date.”

Anthony smiles, closing the cabinet and heading to his refrigerator, neatly avoiding Daisy who, once again, is lying on the rug on the floor near the kitchen sink. “What happened this time?”

Courtney sighs. Anthony hears two distant thumps—those must be her precious black Converses hitting the floor as she carelessly removes them from her feet—and grins. “That bad, huh?”

Courtney groans. “Yes, it was _that_ bad,” she says, frustration bleeding through her tone. “He didn’t bring me to a restaurant, which was great, because then that showed that he had some creativity, so when the date began, I was putting plus points in his tally.”

“Where’d he take you?” Anthony asks, bending down to look at the (sadly) few contents of his refrigerator. From her spot, Daisy raises her head to sneak a glance at the contents of the open refrigerator, before lowering her head again, apparently having sated her curiosity.

“The beach,” Courtney says simply. “It was nice. We bought gelato at this great place, then walked to the beach. Not the best place to wear Converses at, mind you, but I was really having fun. By that time, the sun was setting, so you know, the whole thing looked romantic.”

Anthony closes the refrigerator door. “But?”

Courtney sighs, and Anthony hears her walk, footsteps light on wooden floors. “But then he started talking about how he appreciated me because I didn’t look like one of those geeky girls who, in his words, _pretend_ to like playing video games and reading comic books just so they can get guys to be attracted to them.”

Anthony raises his eyebrows. “Damn. Don’t let Mari hear what he said,” he says, stepping around Daisy and heading to his bedroom to grab his laptop. He already knows Courtney knows that she should do that—Mari’s rants about some of the haters who continue to say that she shouldn’t be part of the group since she’s a girl are legendary, after all—but he reminds her anyway, knowing that Courtney, Mari, and Olivia try to hang out when they can.

“I know that.” Courtney sighs again, and Anthony knows that she’s going to be marathoning How I Met Your Mother later. “Needless to say, the mood was ruined.”

Anthony holds the phone to his ear with one shoulder, what with both of his hands occupied with holding his laptop as he walks back to the dining table. Outside, the sky is dark blue and the lights are just a little bit blinding, the Los Angeles city seemingly more alive at night than in the morning. “I’m sorry. But hey, there are other dates, don’t worry.”

“God, just. I suck at this dating thing. Can I hear about your bad dating experiences? Any ridiculous love life anecdotes you want to share? Advice, maybe?”

Anthony laughs, carefully putting his laptop on the kitchen table. “You just want to hear about my failures in the dating scene,” he says, one hand coming up to hold his phone to his ear.

“Yeah,” Courtney admits, and Anthony laughs harder. “I just want to immerse myself in another person’s failures at dating.”

“Well then, sorry, you won’t be hearing anything from me. I haven’t been dating, remember?” Anthony sits down and opens his laptop. “Now, if you do want to hear about sad break up stories, I’m the guy you should talk to.”

Courtney chuckles, and Anthony smiles. He might not be able to do much, but hey, at least he’s making her smile.

Anthony hears the sound of keys jingling, and he looks behind him, smiling when he sees Daisy lift her head up. When the door opens, Daisy stands up and runs towards Ian, barking loudly all the while.

“Huh.”

“What?” Anthony asks, standing up and tucking his way too expensive iPhone between his ear and shoulder.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Courtney says, confused.

Anthony grabs some of the plastic bags in Ian’s hands, smiling at him when Ian mouths “thanks”. “I don’t. Anyway, I have to go cook dinner. Bye, Courtney.”

“Bye,” she says, but the confusion is still there. Anthony doesn’t pay any attention to it, though, choosing to hang up and put his phone in his pocket, before walking to the pantry and starting to put away the groceries. Ian closes the door and puts the plastic bags he’s carrying on the middle of the dining table, where it will be safe from Daisy, but not from Pip.

“Courtney?” Ian asks.

Anthony turns around and watches Ian try to shoo Pip away from the plastic bags of groceries. “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “Bad date.”

Ian’s in a gray button up shirt today, and when he turns around to look at Anthony and shoot him a smile, his eyes seem even bluer because of it.

“So what’s for dinner?” Ian asks, turning around again to remove the food from the plastic bags.

Anthony shrugs. “I don’t really know. We could order in? Unless you want to cook.”

“Too lazy,” Ian says, and Anthony laughs.

“Order in, it is.”

-.-.-.-

Anthony groans. It’s a little pitiful, really, and he can just sense Pip’s judgmental look on him before he gets off Ian’s bed and stalks to the doorway, apparently having had enough of his being pathetic. Anthony would be worried about having raised a sassy, judgmental cat, but Pip’s acting normally enough for a cat that Anthony’s just not worried at all about him.

What he _is_ worried about is himself. No matter how hard he tries to ignore the shivers running through his body, he can’t seem to fall asleep. Daisy is, as always, a silent knight, staying by Anthony’s side even though Ian says Daisy isn’t allowed on his bed.

Smiling, Anthony glances at Daisy and brings a hand up, fingers gently scratching her head.

“Feeling better?”

Anthony looks up from Daisy to see Ian with a small smile on his face and a bowl of soup in his hands. “Not really,” he says, though he smiles softly as he does so. “Daisy’s helping.”

Ian raises his eyebrows as he walks to the nightstand slowly, careful not to make the soup spill. “Moral support?”

“Yeah,” Anthony admits. He closes his eyes against the intense bout of headache, screwing his eyes further shut when he feels something that can only be described as a parade of elephants stomping on his skull or something like it attack him and his sanity. A pitiful groan makes its way out of his mouth, and he shifts his head a little bit to the side, trying to find a comfortable position on the too-hot pillow.

For all that Ian’s mattress feels a little like what heaven’s floor must be like, Anthony still feels a little bit like his skin’s too tight, still feels too hot and too cold at the same time.

“See, I told you not to go to work yesterday.” Anthony can hear the disapproval in Ian’s voice, try as Ian might not to actually say, “see, I told you so”.

Anthony opens his eyes. “I’ll get better, don’t worry,” Anthony says, right before he starts shivering under the covers again. Daisy lifts her head up, visibly alarmed, before standing up and rearranging herself when she sees what caused her to move. She lies back down and puts her head on top of Anthony’s thigh. Smiling, Anthony puts his hand back on her head, softly patting her fur as he ignores the desire to just curl up to trap as much body heat as possible.

Ian sits down beside Anthony, careful not to hit Daisy with his legs. “Come on, sit up. You need to eat something. And yes, before you ask, the soup is vegan. Come on, give me some credit.”

Anthony coughs. “I wasn’t going to ask,” he says when the lung-rattling cough is over. His head still hurts like the worst kind of hell, and he’s still a little weak. To be perfectly honest, he really doesn’t think he has the strength to sit up right now, and he suspects that if he _does_ manage to sit up, he won’t be able to last long. “And, uh, can I take a rain check on that soup?”

Ian shakes his head. “You haven’t eaten anything. I’m not going to be the one who’s going to have to drag your dead ass from my house. Sit up, man.”

Sighing, Anthony plants two hands onto the mattress and slowly sits up, grateful when Ian immediately grabs the pillows that were previously underneath his head and starts rearranging them. Eventually, Anthony _does_ make it, his entire upper body leaning against the pillows which, in turn, are propped up against the smooth dark wood of the headboard. His vision swimming, Anthony closes his eyes for a few seconds to get a hold of his bearings, before slowly opening them and almost sighing in relief when everything looks steady. His mouth tastes a little bit like something died in there, and he knows that if he eats the soup, he won’t be able to taste anything.

He hates being sick.

“Here,” Ian says, holding the bowl of soup in his hand. “I’ll feed you.”

Anthony moans. “’M not a child.”

Ian shoots him a look. “Yeah, but I really don’t think you can hold this, and I’m sure you don’t want to get first-degree burns from spilling soup all over yourself.”

Grimacing, Anthony watches Ian spoon some soup. “I can at least hold the spoon,” he says, one hand coming up to rub his stuffed nose.

Ian sighs, but doesn’t argue, instead carefully handing Anthony the spoonful of soup. It goes like this a few more times, with the soup eventually helping Anthony breathe a little better through his nose and with Anthony gradually being able to avoid spilling soup onto Ian’s pristine white sheets. Outside, rain pitter-patters on the window, the sky looking gray and gloomy. At least the weather feels the same way Anthony does, he thinks as he dutifully takes another sip of the admittedly delicious soup.

“I’ll go get you some water,” Ian says when Anthony has finally finished the bowl of soup. He smiles at him softly, fondness shining in his eyes, before he walks out the door.

As much as Anthony would like to lie back down and try again to get some rest, he knows he has to drink his water and medicine, so he settles for turning his head and looking out the window. He’s a little thankful that the illness crept up on him this morning, when he was finally settled into Ian’s house again, because he knows that if he were in his apartment today, the constant blaring of horns that is unavoidable in Los Angeles traffic combined with the rain would give him even more of a headache.

This—this is nice. It’s quiet, and even though Anthony feels so sick he can hardly move, everything feels peaceful. He has Pip and Daisy to keep him company, and he has Ian to take care of him. By all accounts, he’s lucky to have stumbled into this weird little thing he and Ian have got going on.

“I’m back.”

Anthony turns his head and smiles when he sees Ian in his gray pajamas and a faded blue tee, a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of Tylenol in the other.

It’s not long before Anthony has drunk his medicine and his glass of water and is sliding down the bed once more, already feeling the Dayquil affecting him. As he slowly closes his eyes, however, he feels Daisy leave the bed, replaced by Ian lying down.

Anthony opens one eye. “Go away,” he mumbles, already halfway to dreamland, “you’re going to get sick.”

Ian chuckles. “You’re not going to kick me out of my own bed, Anthony. Go to sleep.”

Anthony does.

-.-.-.-

It’s morning.

Anthony wakes up a hell of a lot better than he was yesterday. Last night, Ian had once again force-fed him soup until he finished the bowl, then proceeded to sleep next to him despite his protests, _again_. When he had slept, the rain had slowed down, and though the headache was still there, it wasn’t as bad as before.

Now, however, Anthony feels a lot better. He can breathe normally through his nose again, the headache has dulled into something faint and easily ignorable, and the sun is shining outside, judging from the way some streams of sunlight have managed to slip their way through the crack between Ian’s blinds. His mouth doesn’t feel like it’s stuffed with cotton balls, and he’s pretty sure that if he tries, he can sit up without much trouble now.

Smiling, Anthony turns on his side and watches Ian, peaceful in sleep. Giving into the urge, Anthony reaches with one hand and cards his fingers through Ian’s hair, rearranging the strands so they wouldn’t cover Ian’s closed eyes. He stops, frowning, when he feels Ian’s skin, fever-hot like his skin yesterday.

Sighing, Anthony gets out of bed and tucks the blanket, knowing that Ian will appreciate it later, when he’s awake and miserable.

Barefoot, Anthony makes his way out of the bedroom, taking great care to close the door behind him gently. Making his way down the wooden staircase, he smiles when he sees Pip and Daisy sharing Daisy’s doggy bed. They’re both awake—Daisy’s eyes light up when she sees him walking down the stairs, and Pip only looks at him with disinterest in his eyes—and Anthony nods, immediately heading to the door leading to the backyard. As expected, the moment Anthony opens the door, Daisy _shoots_ out of her doggy bed and leaps to the door, with Pip following her at a much slower pace.

When they’re both out of the house, Anthony closes the door and heads to the kitchen, bending down to get the pot he needs to make Chicken Noodle soup. Halfway through cutting up onions, he hears Daisy scratching at the door, and he quickly walks towards it and opens it, sighing when Daisy immediately bounds for the staircase, no doubt eager to see Ian.

Another few minutes, and Anthony hears the bedroom door opening, as well as Ian’s raspy voice. “Anthony?”

“Down here!” Anthony calls out. He watches Pip stalk towards the living room couch for a few seconds, before he says, “I told you you’d get sick.”

He hears the steady thumps that tell him that Ian’s walking down the staircase. “I have great resistance. I don’t get sick often. I just slept with you in the same bed, and now I’m sick? We didn’t even share spoons or anything,” Ian says, sounding tired. Anthony looks up from the celery he’s chopping, frowning when he sees the bags under Ian’s eyes and the white, too-thin blanket around Ian’s shoulders.

“You should be in bed,” Anthony says, putting the knife aside and walking towards Ian. Reaching out with one hand, he arranges Ian’s hair so that it doesn’t cover his eyes, smiling at him softly as he does so. “Come on, I’m making Chicken Noodle Soup. Get some rest, Ian.”

“But you’re sick too,” Ian argues, swaying forward a little. Anthony immediately reaches out with both hands at the smallest indication that Ian’s going to pitch forward.

“I’m fine,” Anthony says. At Ian’s unimpressed look, he rolls his eyes. “Okay, mostly fine. Better than you, definitely. Go on. I’ll go up with your soup, okay?”

Sighing in defeat, Ian nods, before slowly making his way back up the stairs. Anthony takes the time to watch Ian climb the stairs, before walking back to the kitchen and resuming making the soup.

He doesn’t like cooking with non-vegan products, but, well.

Ian is worth it.

-.-.-.-

“Hey, so you’ll never guess who I ran into.”

Anthony looks up from the papers in his hands, blinking. Courtney, in a plain black shirt, white shorts, and a pair of her trusty black Converses, is closing the door behind her, a grin that can be likened to a cat that ate the canary present on her face. Her eyes are gleaming with mischief, and Anthony spares a thought to be worried about himself before he forces himself to sit up and stop looking at the papers in his hands.

Anthony doesn’t even know why he’s worried, but he _is_. Still, he doesn’t let Courtney see the fear in his eyes, and he smiles at her a little indulgently. “Beyonce?”

“What?” Courtney shoots him an incredulous look. “No. Guess again.”

Anthony watches Courtney take a seat across him for a few seconds before he shrugs. “We both in LA. This guessing game might take a while.”

“All right.” She leans back, her smile becoming wickeder. “I ran into Ian.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow, a disbelieving smile twisting his lips. “So? I run into him all the time.” He shakes his head a little and leans forward. “We work together, remember?”

Courtney’s smile doesn’t slip from her face. If anything, it grows wider. “No, no. That’s not the special thing about it. I caught him on his run, so you know who else I saw?”

Anthony shrugs, not seeing where the whole conversation is going. “Beyonce?”

“Wrong.” Courtney doesn’t roll her eyes, but Anthony can clearly see that she wants to. “Ian was running with his dog.”

Anthony blinks. “Well, yeah, that’s generally how he runs. He usually brings Daisy with him for some exercise.” He knows this, because though they both love running, he’s more of a morning person than Ian and so goes on a morning run that starts much earlier than Ian’s. Usually, by the time he gets home, Ian and Daisy aren’t there yet, and so he has the luxury of staying a little longer in the shower, knowing that no one’s waiting to use it afterwards. He and Ian have gotten into the habit of leaving breakfast for the other, so usually, when Anthony’s home, there’s food kept inside the microwave so that Pip wouldn’t be able to eat it. Before leaving, Anthony always makes sure to cook something up for Ian as well, since it would be pretty rude not to do so.

“Okay, but you haven’t heard the best part yet.” Courtney looks so excited, Anthony’s actually pretty scared that she’s just going to spontaneously combust. “Ask me where he was headed.”

Anthony blinks. He feels so close to laughing, he can barely keep it in. “Did you _stalk_ Ian?” he asks instead, choosing to tease Courtney a little more before eventually giving in to her wishes.

“Ask me where he was headed, Anthony,” Courtney says, ignoring Anthony’s question.

Anthony sighs. “All right, where was he headed?”

“To your apartment building,” Courtney says, looking proud of herself. “And I just happen to remember a certain conversation we had over the phone, the one in which I heard a dog bark. You said you didn’t have a dog, and I guess you’re right since Daisy isn’t your dog, but Ian’s.”

Anthony’s still confused. He’s guessing he shouldn’t be, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out where Courtney is going with this. “Okay, so…?”

Courtney smiles, bright and happy. “ _So_ , you and Ian are dating!”

Anthony blinks. He blinks again. Then, he blinks some more. “What?” he eventually asks, feeling a bit in over his head. His mouth feels dry. He swallows in an effort to make it feel less so. “What?”

Courtney shrugs. “You and Ian are dating.” She says it so simply, like it’s something that’s so natural to her, something that isn’t at all impossible.

“Uh, Courtney,” Anthony says when he’s finally gotten ahold of himself, “Ian and I are best friends.”

“So? Best friends can date.”

Anthony is absently aware of the fact that he and Courtney probably shouldn’t be talking about this kind of thing in this room, where their coworkers are bound to be headed for and where they might be heard by people who are extremely talented in the art of _gossip_ , but still, he shakes his head and continues the conversation anyway, needing clarification. He’s still a little confused as to how Courtney came to that conclusion. “Yeah, but not me and Ian.”

Courtney’s smile fades. “Wait, so are you saying that you and Ian _aren’t_ dating?” she asks, and Anthony’s a little stricken by the fact that Courtney found it much easier to assume _and_ say that he and Ian were dating than the opposite.

Anthony shakes his head. “No.”

“So then why was Ian headed to your apartment?” Courtney asks, her eyebrows drawn together in suspicion.

“He’s staying at my place,” Anthony says nonchalantly, not seeing why he shouldn’t tell her the truth. He looks back down at the papers in his hands, sighing when he realizes there’s still a lot more he needs to read.

“Doesn’t he have a house?” Courtney asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah,” Anthony says, glancing at her before looking back down. “I stay there with him on weekends. Less traffic, less noise. Kind of peaceful, actually.”

“I knew it!” Courtney says, sounding proud of herself, her voice _way_ louder than it should be. Anthony looks up and smiles when he sees Courtney’s expression—all that’s missing is a fist in the air, and she wouldn’t look out of place on an Olympics winners’ three-level podium.

“What? It still doesn’t mean anything. We’re still not dating.”

Courtney leans forward, looking more eager than ever. “You know, when I was asking you if you wanted me to introduce you to my friend, I knew you were telling the truth when you told me that you didn’t really want to date other people for a while. I just didn’t know what the whole truth was.”

Anthony feels more confused than ever. He feels like this conversation’s the verbal equivalent of being turned around and around while he has his eyes closed and having to open his eyes and somehow make it out of a maze even while his whole world’s spinning and unstable. “And the whole truth is…?” Anthony prompts, wanting to actually get some clear answers from Courtney.

“That you don’t want to date because you’re already in a committed relationship,” Courtney says, and it’s in that tone of voice again, the one that tells him just how natural it is to Courtney, kind of like how basic facts of life are usually said: the sky is blue, the Earth revolves around the sun, and Ian and Anthony are in a _committed relationship_.

At Anthony’s lost look, Courtney elaborates. “Come _on_ , Anthony. You guys are staying at each other’s places. You know who does that? People in relationships. Ian bought you food and brought it here to you like it was nothing. You know who does that? Again, people in relationships.”

“Yeah, but best friends do that too,” Anthony points out.

Courtney gives him an indulging smile, the one that lets Anthony know that Courtney’s merely patronizing him. “Okay, so what are you saying? That you’re best friends who live together, but at the same time, _don’t_ live together? What, are you roommates in different places?” Courtney shakes her head. “Your logic is flawed. Besides, people who stay at their best friend’s places generally don’t a.) stay for long, which looks like the case between you two seeing as you just casually told me you stayed at his place on _weekends_ , plural, and b.) bring their pets with them,” she says, counting her reasons off on her fingers.

Anthony blinks. Courtney, to his dismay, has a point.

Has he really been dating Ian all this time? “We’re not dating,” he says, though the words come out weak.

Courtney gives him a soft smile, though she looks like she badly wants to roll her eyes at him instead. “You’re so oblivious, Anthony. Ian could propose to you later and you’d still come in here tomorrow with a ring on your finger and insist that the ring on your finger is just a friendship ring.”

Anthony ignores her, choosing to think about the previous days he spent with Ian. He’s snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and when he looks up, he doesn’t know if he’s glad or sad to see Ian entering the room in his giraffe shirt and a pair of jeans.

Ian smiles. “Hey guys,” he says, and Anthony knows that Ian doesn’t know that Courtney saw him this morning. Watching Ian walk towards the seat beside him, he tries to even out his breathing and not panic. When Ian takes a moment to look outside, Anthony feels Courtney’s hand on his, and he breathes out slowly, looking at her with pleading and panic in his eyes.

“Just think about it,” she mouths, and he nods as he tries to breathe in slowly, wanting to be calm before Ian notices that something’s going on.

Courtney shoots him an encouraging smile before leaning back and grabbing her phone from one of the pockets in her shorts. She has, for all intents and purposes, forgotten about him now.

He glances back down at the papers in his hand. He _will_ think about what she said, he knows. Maybe not now, but later.

Ian sits down beside him, and he knows.

Definitely later.

-.-.-.-

Anthony has had a lot of girlfriends in the past, few of which he still talks to up to now. To be honest, Kalel is the only exception to the whole rule about not becoming friends with exes, but even with her, conversations are short and far in between.

Anthony’s not the best at handling break ups very well. With him, relationships too often end ugly, minor unresolved issues becoming larger and larger until the relationship breaks apart, too weak to continue supporting such a heavy weight.

His last relationship wasn’t too different from his previous ones. It had been easy, at first, had been exciting in the way that all new relationships are. But then, as always, it started to wear thin, started to become something that felt more like a responsibility than a desire, and problems started to arise. Previously unspoken complaints were aired out like dirty laundry, and, well, they had no other direction to go than downhill.

This, whatever _this_ is, whatever the fuck it is that he has with Ian—it’s easy. It’s not wordless fights and unresolved issues—it’s merely them enjoying each other’s company, and Anthony’s pretty sure that people don’t have to be in relationships to enjoy each other’s company.

So what if they stay at each other’s place? It’s only logical they do so—if it weren’t reasonable, Anthony’s pretty sure they would have stopped doing it long ago. The whole sex part? Well, they only do that occasionally, only when one of them is extremely stressed, and besides, friends with benefits exist, right? It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re in a relationship.

Right?

-.-.-.-

It’s evening, and Anthony’s awake. It doesn’t take him very long to figure out where he is, or who’s with him—Ian had rolled from his side of the bed to Anthony’s in the middle of the night, and when Anthony wakes, it’s to the feeling of warmth down his front and to the sight of Ian tucked into him, his arms encircled around Ian’s chest like they belong there.

Taking a few moments to figure out how he’s going to get out of bed without waking Ian up, Anthony looks around the room. Even in the darkness, with only the light from the hallway outside spilling under the door to help him, Anthony can see that Ian’s bedroom is a mess. From his position, he can spy Ian’s boxers somehow hanging off the television and Ian’s shirt about two steps from the bed. About two pillows are resting on the floor, and Anthony can see the bottle of lube Ian had hastily thrown a while ago near the door.

Feeling the overwhelming urge to pee, Anthony focuses back on the situation at hand and starts to slowly remove his hand from underneath Ian. Ian, wonder of wonders, manages to stay asleep even with Anthony constantly trying to tug his arm free, and when Anthony finally succeeds in his task, he takes a moment to stretch his arm, wincing at the sharp tingling of it from lack of circulation.

Taking extra measures to be quiet, Anthony slowly gets out of bed, his lips curling into a smile when Ian almost immediately rolls even further to sleep on Anthony’s side of the bed.

Anthony exits the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. He doesn’t bother to get dressed, knowing no one’s going to see him in here anyway. Besides, he’s not going to take the time to try and figure out where he and Ian had thrown his clothes earlier, when they were too busy trying to make it to the bed—it’s late, and it’s not like he’s planning to be out of bed for a long time.

Squinting his eyes against the bright lights of the hallway, he steadily makes his way to the bathroom, one hand coming up to rub against his eyes. A yawn slips out of his mouth as he enters the bathroom, one hand quickly closing the door behind him, the other hand coming up to flick the switch on.

When he’s finished, he quickly flushes the toilet and washes his hands, tilting his head as he looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is mostly flat, and stubble has grown overnight, and well, he looks better than before. There aren’t creases in his forehead from constant worrying, no tense lines on his face, and there are no bags under his eyes. Instead, there are pillow marks on his cheek and a warmth that only comes from an enjoyable sleep.

Smiling, Anthony rinses his hands and dries them on the soft brown hand towel Ian has hanging near the sink.

Anthony exits the bathroom, flicking the switch off behind him. One hand coming down to scratch at his stomach, he stifles a yawn, heading towards the staircase instead of walking back to the bedroom. His throat feels dry, and though Ian actually joked about keeping a mini-fridge in his bedroom, he actually didn’t.

The house is quiet. Not eerily so, mind you—it just _is_. It’s peaceful. Moonlight is streaming through the cracks in the blinds, and the only sound Anthony hears as he walks down the staircase are the minute vibrations of the house—the signs of life. He can hear the tick-tock of a clock somewhere, can hear the soft humming of the refrigerator, the faraway noise of a car driving towards home.

It’s never like this in his apartment. There, no matter what time, noise is always present, always reminding him that he’s a small person in a big city. Here, he can pretend for a little while that time has stopped still.

The moment Anthony’s foot hits the floor, he sees Daisy open her eyes from where she’s lying on her doggy bed. Upon seeing him, she closes her eyes, her curiosity sated. Anthony takes that as a sign that he should be quieter—as much as he loves Daisy and Pip, it’s a little weird to be walking around naked with them watching him.

He’s quiet as he inches to the refrigerator, which is why he’s surprised when Daisy starts barking extremely loudly just as he’s bending forward to grab a water bottle.

“What the hell?” he mutters to himself, grabbing the bottle from deep inside the refrigerator—Ian really has to buy some groceries soon, considering that his refrigerator has nothing in it but takeaway leftovers and a couple bottles of water.

He hears keys fall onto the wooden floor, and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Did he somehow wake Ian up?

“Who are you and what are you doing naked in my son’s house?”

Anthony blinks. Oh shit. He knows that voice.

In his haste to get his head out of the refrigerator, he bumps his head twice before he finally manages to stand straight and look at Sharon, though understandably not in the eyes, no. Instead, he looks to the right of her neck, where he can see Pip lying on Daisy’s bed, merely staring at him unhelpfully. Daisy is seated in front of Sharon and Stephan, her tail thumping on the floor in excitement. He can’t see her front, but he can totally tell that she has her tongue out.

Anthony, thankfully, managed to get the water bottle, and he subtly moves his hand so that the bottle covers his dick. It probably doesn’t help much, considering that Stephan and Sharon are standing together and there is no way that he can cover all angles of his dick to their satisfaction. If sideball were a thing like sideboob is, he’s _definitely_ giving them that.

Feeling blood rush to his cheeks as well as down his neck and chest, he crosses his legs and hopes that the ground below him just opens up and swallows him whole.

Ian hadn’t told him his parents were visiting today. Some warning would have been nice, especially since if he were warned, he wouldn’t be in the situation where his best friend’s parents could see him buck-naked. For all the mom jokes he and Ian have been cracking over the years, never did he actually want Sharon to see his dick hanging out.

For a few seconds, Anthony is silent. Sharon and Stephan must be in some sort of shock, considering that they haven’t closed their eyes or told him to go get dressed or anything. As much as Anthony would like to say something to make sure that Ian’s parents aren’t having a silent stroke in front of him, he doesn’t actually know what to say. He’s pretty sure that there’s no covering this one up. Still, he tries, actually opening his mouth to say something, although he immediately closes it again when it becomes clear that nope, there are no words for this.

Daisy, apparently having had enough of Stephan and Sharon ignoring her, starts barking loudly, the way she does when she’s in the backyard and having a barking contest with the dogs next door. Despite knowing that Daisy will inevitably wake Ian up, Anthony sighs in relief. At least there’s noise filling the silence.

It’s not long before Anthony hears Ian walking down the stairs, and his heart starts pounding double-time when he realizes that there’s a huge possibility that Ian’s naked as well.

When Ian appears, Anthony sighs in relief. Ian had apparently put on a simple white shirt and a pair of black boxers. Ian’s eyes widen, and Anthony knows that Ian hadn’t expected his parents either.

“Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?” he asks, sounding happy. Probably confused as to why his parents aren’t answering him, Ian turns to look at whatever it is they’re looking at, which just turns to be a naked Anthony.

Ian quickly stifles a laugh when he sees Anthony barely managing to maintain his modesty with a bottle of water, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. Anthony, to his credit, actually manages to resist the urge to flip Ian off in front of his parents.

Stephan is the first to come out of his shock. Sharon isn’t behind him much, and Anthony watches as her eyes widen impossibly further before red floods her cheeks. She quickly averts her eyes, looking at Ian with hysteria present in her eyes. Stephan, in an effort to avoid looking at Anthony’s dick, crouches down to focus all his attention on Daisy.

“Okay,” Ian says, obviously trying to end the awkward situation they’ve all found themselves to be accidentally a part of, “listen, mom, dad, I didn’t know you were coming so I’m sorry I haven’t prepared anything. Uh, I know the guest room’s clean, you can go sleep there. Obviously, you’re tired from the, wait, did you drive here or get a flight?”

Sharon blinks. “Guest room? You only have one guest room, right? Where will Anthony sleep?”

Ian opens his mouth. Not finding anything suitable to say, he closes it again, putting one finger on his lips as he struggles to think of something to tell his parents. “About that,” he starts to say, although he doesn’t continue.

Sharon blinks once more. Stephan freezes. Anthony can tell the _exact_ moment Sharon and Stephan realize just _why_ Anthony is naked in Ian’s house.

“Oh,” Sharon says faintly. “Well, in that case, I’m happy for you.” Though her voice gradually increases in pitch the more she talks, Anthony knows that she’s genuinely happy for him and Ian. It’s just the panic that’s making her hysterical, he thinks, or at least _hopes_ it is, because what if Sharon doesn’t approve of Anthony being with her son?

And what the fuck even? Why is he thinking about this kind of thing? He and Ian aren’t dating. He shouldn’t be worried about what Sharon and Stephan’s opinions about him are.

“Well,” Stephan says, standing up when he’s finished patting Daisy’s head, “we just came from a late-night flight, so I’m sure you boys don’t mind if we go to that guest room now, right?” He very carefully doesn’t even _glance_ at Anthony.

“Yeah,” Ian says, nodding quickly. “Right. The guest room’s upstairs.” Anthony watches as Ian immediately grabs the one small suitcase his parents have brought. “I’m going to take this, okay? The guest room is the second room on the right.”

Almost immediately, Sharon and Stephan head for the stairs. Daisy doesn’t follow them, instead walking back to her doggy bed.

“Anthony, why are you naked?” Ian asks as soon as he hears the guest room door close.

Anthony exhales. “You know why,” he says, finally giving into the urge to close his eyes. “Oh my God. I can’t believe your parents just saw me naked.” Humiliation doesn’t even begin to describe what he’s feeling right now. Actually, he’s pretty sure there isn’t an accurate word for whatever it is he’s feeling right now.

Ian laughs. “I can’t believe you didn’t put on clothes before walking out the bedroom,” he says, shaking his head. He grabs the suitcase and starts walking toward the staircase.

“I was going to be quick,” Anthony says, heading for the staircase as well. He lets Ian climb the stairs in front of him, and as he climbs, he’s struck by how just a few minutes ago, he was walking down these stairs naked and feeling at peace with the world.

Well, that peace had been effectively shot to pieces, to say the least.

“I was only going to the bathroom, and then I decided I wanted water, and well, how was I supposed to know your parents were going to be walking through the door in a few minutes?” Anthony whispers sharply, entirely too aware that Ian’s parents are just a few feet away from both of them and will probably be able to hear them if they talked in a normal tone.

Ian laughs. “Well, there’s nothing we can do now. They’re probably talking about you right now as we speak.”

Anthony’s heart sinks. “Really? Shit.”

Ian smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says, though he knows that Anthony’s going to do _exactly_ the opposite of what he’s telling him to do. “I’m sure they still love you.”

Anthony sighs. He opens Ian’s bedroom door and looks at the clothes lying haphazardly on the floor, feeling a little betrayed.

Goddamn it.

-.-.-.-

“So,” Sharon begins, smiling at Anthony kindly, “you and Ian are dating?”

It’s morning. Ian, knowing that there isn’t anything edible in his house since he and Anthony have been too busy to actually make time for grocery shopping, had driven them up to a little homey restaurant uptown called “Kegs and Eggs”. It’s an all-day fine-dining restaurant with a breakfast buffet and a bar that’s open even during breakfast, and though Anthony really doesn’t drink much, right now he would actually want nothing more than a bottle of whiskey to get out of the awkward situation of having to eat breakfast with the very same people who saw his dick for the first—and hopefully, _last_ —time just this early morning.

Anthony looks to his left, where Ian is seated. Ian glances at him and gives him a small shrug. Ian doesn’t need to talk to let Anthony know that he’s going to go with whatever Anthony chooses to tell his parents.

Oddly enough, or, well, perhaps _not so oddly enough_ , it’s that tiny shrug that makes Anthony think about what Courtney told him only three days ago. The fact that he and Ian don’t even need to talk to communicate effectively is astounding. It’s not something new, no, but it’s something that Anthony has only _really_ thought about now. It’s the kind of thing he has taken for granted.

It should be scary, how easy everything is with Ian. As much as Anthony hates to admit it, he and Ian _had_ been acting like a couple for the last couple of weeks, and it’s evidenced by the presence of the box of cereals he hates but Ian loves in his pantry, evidenced by the vegan substitutes in Ian’s kitchen cupboards. It’s evidenced by the presence of a doggy bed in Anthony’s apartment and by the presence of Anthony’s preferred shampoo and conditioner in Ian’s bathroom. Most of all, it’s evidenced by the various moments they’ve had with each other in each other’s places—Ian cooking various vegan meals in Anthony’s kitchen night after night and Anthony sitting beside Ian and trying to make him eat soup so he’ll feel better as they watch Monsters Inc., among others. Somehow, without either of them knowing, they’ve fallen into a relationship.

And the thing is, even though everything has been accidental, this is still the easiest relationship Anthony has ever had. Not once in the previous weeks has he ever felt weighed down or tired. If anything, he’s felt better than he has for months.

It’s surprising, how Anthony hasn’t felt panic yet as he thinks about whatever it is he has with Ian. Part of it may be because he’s probably unable to feel panic anymore seeing as he’s used all that up earlier this morning when he involuntarily gave Ian’s parents a free show, but he knows that it’s mostly because, well, everything with Ian has been easy and fun so far. Why should this be any different?

Sharon, apparently sensing that Anthony needs to talk to Ian, smiles at him kindly before standing up and heading to the buffet table with her husband. The moment they’re out of earshot, Anthony puts his spoon and fork down, looking at Ian. “Hey.”

Ian chews on his spoonful of eggs and swallows after a few seconds. “Yeah?”

Anthony leans back. “You know, Courtney and I have been talking. Apparently, you and I have been dating for weeks now.”

Ian’s eyebrows rise. “Really?” he asks, one hand reaching for his glass of lemonade. “So we’re doing this? We’re dating?”

Anthony shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. “You’re okay with it?”

Ian shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s been weeks since I figured out that we sort of acted like a couple. I just thought I would let you think about it yourself instead of bringing it up.” He takes a sip of his lemonade, glances at his parents’ forms near the buffet table, then looks back at Anthony. “Besides, if I weren’t okay with it, I wouldn’t be letting you stay in my house during weekends and I _definitely_ wouldn’t be buying your vegan substitutes. That shit is expensive.”

Anthony grins, feeling giddy beyond belief. He barely even notices when Sharon and Stephan return to their table, busy as he is grinning at Ian.

“So,” Sharon says, smiling, “how long have you been dating my son, Anthony?”

Anthony looks away from Ian and gets his spoon and fork. “For about two months, now,” he says, glancing at Ian.

Ian shrugs, though there’s a smile playing on his lips.

It’s easy. Already, Anthony can tell that this is going to be so vastly different from his other relationships. And if, on the off chance that Ian and Anthony aren’t going to fit as well as they thought they would in terms of being in a relationship with each other, they’ll figure it out.

After all, just because everything is easy between them doesn’t mean they won’t work on their relationship. Of course they would. It’s just that, well, working on their relationship won’t feel more of a responsibility than something they _actually_ want to do.

Anthony knows it.

Of course, the fans are going to freak when they finally learn about Ian and Anthony’s relationship, and yes, Courtney’s definitely going to grin at him and say “I told you so”, but that’s okay.

Ian’s worth it.

-.-.-.-

Three years after Ian and Anthony start dating, Ian proposes.

After filming at their house in Sacramento, Ian convinces Anthony to stay for a day more before catching a flight back to Los Angeles the next day. Anthony agrees, not seeing anything wrong with it, considering that there’s really nothing on his schedule for the next couple of days. That night, after Anthony goes to the airport with the cast and crew, he goes home to a house filled with rose petals and candles, a romantic dinner on their old dining table. Ian himself is smiling at him from behind the kitchen counter, and he steps aside to show Anthony that he’s wearing a suit.

For all that Ian isn’t a romantic, this certainly _is_ romantic, and Anthony, dumbfounded, can do nothing more than walk to the dining table and sit on the chair Ian pulls out for him. Ian walks around the table and sits across him, one hand removing the cover over what looks like a fancy vegan meal.

“You cooked?” Anthony asks for lack of anything else to say. His mouth feels dry, and his mind is running a mile a second, trying to think of what the occasion is. Sitting across Ian, Anthony feels a little underdressed in his gray shirt and skinny jeans.

Ian nods. Anthony looks at the meal, wordless. Ian has been cooking vegan meals for him for years now, and he has improved so much since those first few weeks of him staying over at Anthony’s apartment.

“How did you even cook this without me even noticing?” Anthony asks, looking at the meal before him. It actually looks so well-decorated that he’s a little hesitant to put food on his plate.

Ian sees his hesitation and almost rolls his eyes. “Go, eat,” he says, pushing the plate forward. “I cooked at my parents’. Mom helped. Dad was busy, and besides, I’m pretty sure he can’t cook for shit.”

Careful, Anthony gets a stuffed red bell pepper and puts it on his plate. He looks at the bottle of vegan champagne in a metal bucket half-filled with ice. “Am I forgetting something? Is it our anniversary?” he eventually asks, still a little confused.

Ian smiles at him, something indescribably fond present in his blue eyes, before he stands up and walks around the table and towards Anthony. Anthony turns in his seat, ready to apologize even though he has no idea what he’s apologizing for, only to feel the words die in his throat when he sees Ian kneel on one knee in front of him, a closed black velvet box in his hands.

Anthony’s mouth opens, though no words come out. He feels extremely out of his depth.

“You know,” Ian says, nervousness filtering into his voice, “I totally had a speech prepared.”

Anthony exhales shakily, a smile slowly curling his lips. “I’m sure,” he says, just this side of faint.

Ian swallows. “Okay, let me just,” he says, reaching into an inside pocket and revealing a folded sheet of paper. Anthony watches Ian slowly unfold the paper with shaking hands, and he exhales, happiness starting to filter through his brain as the initial shock slowly passes.

Ian takes a deep breath, and starts to read. “Anthony,” he says, glancing up at Anthony before looking back down on the page.

Anthony bites on his lip to try and keep himself from grinning even wider—Ian has always been shit at memorizing lines. Of course this wouldn’t be any different.

“I suck at this,” Ian starts, and Anthony chuckles, a little hysterical. “I’m not the kind of person who’s romantic like this. I also suck at feelings.” He takes a deep inhale. “You know that, though. We’ve been friends for so many years. I feel like I know you better than most people, and maybe it’s the same for you, too, but even though I know you so well, I’m learning more and more about you with every day that we spend together.” He looks up, and Anthony sees determination in his eyes. “I put up with your shit, and you put up with mine. So.” He clears his throat, then opens the box to reveal a ring.

Anthony, having done his research on rings before, when he had really thought Kalel was the one, knows that this particular ring is made of tungsten carbide. A small round-cut diamond is in the middle of the ring, surrounded by a stainless steel bezel. However, none of these thoughts enter his mind. What _does_ enter his mind is the thought that oh, that’s a ring, and Ian is _proposing_ to him.

Ian smiles up at him, hopeful. “Marry me, loser?”

Anthony exhales sharply, and he finally allows his grin to widen. He stands up from the chair and kneels in front of Ian. He nods, wordless, and he watches as Ian finally grins, removing the ring from the box and slipping it on Anthony’s finger.

It’s a perfect fit. Of course it is.

Feeling a sob escape his throat, Anthony leans forward and hugs Ian. He feels so happy he could burst, really, feels something warm and content settle in his stomach.

He’s going to spend the rest of his life with this man. This incredible, amazing loser who cooks Anthony vegan meals even though he loves meat, this emotionally-constipated man who still manages to be romantic in all the ways that counts, this funny, indescribably amazing best friend of his who stuck by him all these years through ups and downs.

He’s going to marry his best friend.

Pulling back, Anthony kisses Ian like a man in the desert desperate for water, his hands finding their way to the back of Ian’s neck, fingers carding through Ian’s hair as he cradles Ian’s head. Ian’s lips are soft, as always, though Anthony can feel the minute imprints where Ian had undoubtedly bit his lip in nervousness. He feels Ian’s hands slide down to his hips, fingers curling into flesh as Ian presses forward and kisses Anthony deeper.

After a few seconds, they separate with wide grins on their faces.

“You know, it kind of sucks that you proposed here,” Anthony says, sitting back on his haunches. “Your heavenly mattress is a flight away.”

Ian laughs, knowing just how Anthony’s in love with his bed. “I’m sure you can put up with the mattress we have here for just a night,” he says, smiling. He stands up, holding out a hand for Anthony. “Let’s go?”

Anthony accepts Ian’s hand and stands up. Quickly, he covers the food, not bothering to put them inside the refrigerator—he’s certain that after one round of celebratory “I just got engaged” sex, he and Ian would be starving and coming out in search of much needed nutrients.

When all the food has been covered, Anthony grabs the champagne bottle by the neck and smiles at Ian. “Let’s go,” he agrees.

-.-.-.-

It’s a miracle that Anthony can still _walk_ after the weekend he and Ian had just had. They barely left the bedroom for anything during that weekend, and he thinks even Daisy and Pip knew not to disturb them.

Now though, it’s Monday, which means the weekend is officially over. He and Ian haven’t announced their engagement to their friends and fans yet, busy as they were celebrating by themselves. They had, however, taken the time to call their families and tell them the big news.

Smiling at the memory, Anthony opens the door, his smile widening even further when he sees Courtney sitting by herself at the long table, her feet resting on the table before her. She has her phone in her hands, and when Anthony closes the door behind him and walks toward the table, he sees that she has her earphones on.

An idea coming to him, Anthony calmly walks to the seat opposite Courtney and grabs his phone from his pocket. As he sits down, he plants his elbows on the table and holds his phone directly at eye-height, making sure that his right hand is over his left.

It doesn’t take long for Courtney to notice him, and Anthony smirks when he sees Courtney’s eyes widen as she looks at the ring on his finger. Hurriedly, she removes her feet from the table and yanks her earphones out of her ears, leaning forward as she does so. “What is that?” she asks, although Anthony knows she knows what it is. She sounds a little breathless and a little surprised.

Anthony shrugs. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he says, a grin playing on his lips. “It’s just a friendship ring.”

Courtney laughs, standing up from her chair and walking around the desk towards Anthony. “Oh, you asshole.”

Anthony stands up and hugs her, smiling.

“Congrats, Anthony,” she says, sincere.

Anthony closes his eyes. “Thank you,” he says.

He means it.

-.-.-.-

(A year later, on Ian and Anthony’s wedding, Stephan begins his speech by saying, “the first time I met my son’s best friend, they were both fifteen and asking for my permission to go hang out at another friend’s place. The first time I met my son’s boyfriend, however, they were both twenty-eight and his boyfriend was standing naked in my son’s kitchen.”

Sharon is not amused. The Smosh family is, however, if Anthony’s going to go by the sounds of laughter from a certain table.)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Smosh. I don't make money from this.


End file.
